


Glory Fades.

by rbellew



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Drama, F/F, F/M, Mystery, YA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:37:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2280444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rbellew/pseuds/rbellew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mysterious and fatal is the disease that is plaguing the wizarding community and Roxanne Weasley has nothing else to lose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tactlessness After the Burial.

**A/N- Just a quick heads up about the story as a whole. It has themes from Divergent and The Maze Runner, which you'll see as it progresses. Also, please know that I do in fact know that the second generation of Weasley-Potters aren't as close in age as I've written them. Each has a special purpose in the story and that's why they're there! Another quick note- I used Google translate for the French in the first chapter (that will continue throughout the story) so please don't be offended if you speak French and see that I have butchered your beautiful language. Also, this is my first try at writing in present tense! So, if it's a bit...off, I'm sorry. I'm still learning and trying to get used to it.**

* * *

 

Everyone is wearing black. I want to burn the dress I’m wearing; I make a vow to myself that I will once I get home. I don’t ever want to see it again, because I know that if I do, it will remind me of this very moment and every moment leading up to it. I want to forget it. I want to forget it before it has even happened.

 

 

 

I feel tension in my chest and my throat feels constricted. It’s hard to breathe. The man in front of the tomb continues speaking words I don’t care to hear and I stare at my feet. Tiny blades of grass poke up around them. I focus on them and single one out. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough on it the world around me will fade away and I won’t be able to hear the constant sobs and sniffles the crowd is emitting.

 

 

 

It doesn’t work, so I start to count them. I reach sixty before a gruff weep shakes me to my core. I tell myself not to look up—but it’s a reflex instilled in everyone. When you hear someone you love in pain, you check to make sure that they’re okay, even when you know that they aren’t.

 

 

 

My dad sobs against his palm as he clings to my mum. His whole body shakes with grief. I can only look at him for a few seconds before I feel like I’m being strangled by invisible hands. Days worth of unshed tears threaten to spill out of my eyes and I ball my small hands into smaller fists. My knuckles pulsate. My heart is pounding. I want to scream.

 

 

 

Everything about this is wrong. My dad shouldn’t be crying. A stranger shouldn’t be talking about Fred. Fred shouldn’t be confined inside of a tomb. I shouldn’t be watching my brother be buried.

 

 

 

I can’t watch him be buried.

 

 

 

I don’t wait a second longer to stand from my seat. The strong smell of flowers wafts through the warm summer air and I hold my breath as I walk by my parents. I don’t know if they notice my absence, but others see me as I move through the aisle separating the rows of chairs, and I can feel their eyes follow me. I don’t look at them—I look straight, past what is ahead of me. I see nothing while I feel a fire of fury storm in my chest.

 

 

 

My fingers throb and my knuckles are almost white when I unclench my fists. My nails left indentations on my palms that burn and prickle with pain. I stare at them, my back towards the burial.

 

 

 

It isn’t long before I hear footsteps approaching behind me. I don’t bother with checking to see who it is. I don’t want to give anyone an opening to start a conversation with me.

 

 

 

However, the person isn’t looking to talk as she stands by my side. She unscrews a flask after retrieving it from her cleavage, takes a gulp, then offers it to me without a word. I take it without one as well. The Firewhiskey burns my throat with my first drink and numbs it with the second. I look up at my cousin Dominique, her long, wavy, strawberry blonde hair blows with the breeze. Her blue eyes are dry. I’m not the only one who is refusing to cry.

 

 

 

“I feel like I’m wearing a brass bra,” she says as she fans her face. “Bloody Hell, it’s hot.”

 

 

I tilt my head back, the flask pressing against my lips. I hardly feel the Firewhiskey as I swallow it.  

 

 

 

I hold the flask out for Dom to take. “This probably isn’t helping,” I say. I already start to feel lightheaded. “With the heat, anyway.”

 

 

 

“Neither are these dreadful clothes.” Dominique fingers her heavy looking dress and purses her lips. “Y’know, I told my mum it was too hot for this! Vous devez porter du noir, Dominique! C'est un enterrement! Ugh. Bloody wench.”

 

 

 

She takes another swig from her flask as I try to decipher what she had muttered in French. I can’t figure it out. I only know a few socially acceptable phrases in Aunt Fleur’s native tongue. Whatever Dom had said wasn’t one of them.  

 

 

 

I thought I wanted to be alone until she joined me. If there was one person who could comfort me without meaning or trying to, it was Dominique. I’m glad she’s with me.  

 

 

 

We hear footsteps and Dom quickly tucks her flask away as she glances over her shoulder. “Bloody Hell, Albus.” She sighs loudly. “I thought you were an adult. Fancy a drink?”

 

 

 

“Erm, no,” he says. I glance over my shoulder to see him wave his hand at her. We look at each other and I see that his eyes are puffy, bloodshot, and wet from recent tears. The sight makes me feel like I’m going to blow sick all over him, so I look away. I’m thankful I didn’t have to see him crying.

 

 

 

“Ya all right, Rox?” he asks, standing by my other side. His voice is strained and nasally.  

 

 

 

“Of course she’s not, you knob!” says Dominique. “Would you be all right?”

 

 

 

Albus says nothing but I see him flinch in my periphery. I refuse to look directly at him. Knowing that he has teary eyes makes me irrationally angry. I know I’ll lash out at him if I speak to him right now so I say nothing.  

 

 

 

We stand in silence and sweat collects on my hairline. I wipe it away. The slight breeze is cooling to my bronze skin but it’s still uncomfortably hot.

 

 

 

I wonder when the burial will be over but I can’t bring myself to voice that question, or turn around to see what is happening behind me. Not even when I hear a loud, shaky sob from only a few feet away. However, when Dom and Albus look and I hear both of them gasp, I’m unable to stop myself from craning my neck.

 

 

 

Rose lurches toward us, sobbing. It’s easier to see her in such a state than it is to see Albus or my dad. She’s always been overly emotional. So much that she was nicknamed The Sensitive Weasley during our first year at school.

 

 

 

“Rose. Are you okay?” asks Albus as he and Dom step closer to her.

 

 

 

“I’m—I’m f—fine,” she says. She doesn’t look fine at all. She looks ill. Paler than usual. I notice that she shakes and sounds breathless. “I just couldn’t...sit there. What—what about you? Dom, Roxy, are you guys okay?”

 

 

 

No sooner than the words leave her mouth, her eyes roll back, lids covering them and she starts to collapse. Albus is quick to catch her before she has a chance to hit the ground.

 

 

 

“Help!” screams Dom. “Someone! Rose—something’s wrong with Rose!”

 

 

 

Several heads turn in our direction. I see Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron rising to their feet, but the first to reach us is James.

 

 

 

“James!” Aunt Hermione screams. “Get her out of here! Take her to George and Angelina’s!”

 

ϟ

James apparates each of us back to my house one by one, starting with Rose, who lays unconscious on the sofa in the lounge. Aunt Hermione sits on the edge of it by her side holding her hand while Uncle Ron leans over the arm, running his fingers through her ginger hair.

 

 

 

Dom, James, Albus and I watch them from the kitchen.  

 

 

 

“I don’t understand why they didn’t take her to St. Mungo’s,” whispers Albus. “With everything that’s been happening...What if she—”

 

 

 

“Oh come off of it, Albus,” Dominique interrupts him. “Aunt Hermione is the smartest person in the family. If it was anything serious, she’d be the one to know.”

 

 

 

“What do you think it is, then, smarty-pants?” asks James.

 

 

 

“Probably the heat!” retorts Dom. “You Potters with your Potter complexes. You think anything that happens is going to lead to something completely dreadful.”

 

 

 

“You say as we miss our cousin’s burial,” James says as he pops a grape into his mouth. He nods toward the lounge. “Because our other cousin fainted for absolutely no reason.”

 

 

 

I snort. I really have to appreciate James’ inability to ever be tactful. Really, I do, or else I’ll have to scream and chuck the porcelain bowl of grapes at his forehead as he smacks his lips.  

 

 

 

The three of them look at me, however James is the only one to say anything. “What about you, tan Weasley?” he says as he chews. “What do you reckon happened to Rosie?”

 

 

 

“The shame of being related to you became too much to bear,” I say.

 

 

 

Dom and Albus share a laugh while James’ face contorts. “Oh that’s real funny, Roxanne.” He swallows the mouth full of grapes. “I was being serious.”

 

 

 

“So was I, Sirius,” I say. “Your name is bloody awful, you know that? What the Hell was your dad thinking?”

 

 

 

“Hey! I was named after important people,” says James. “Plus, Sirius is better than Severus.”

 

 

 

“And it’s better than Albus,” says Dom. “See? Potter complex. He named both of you after dead people.”

 

 

 

“Dad wasn’t the only one who did that,” argues James. “Uncle George named Fred after Uncle Fred.”

 

 

 

And now Fred is dead, too.  

 

 

 

I sink my teeth into the inside of my bottom lip—half to keep myself from saying anything and half to keep it from quivering. I don’t understand how they can talk about him so openly. Every time I hear his name my stomach churns. I don’t want to talk about Fred. I don’t want to hear anyone else talk about him either. I don’t even want to think about him. I wish someone would Obliviate him from my memory.  

 

 

 

James and Dom argue over who in the family has the worst name until they agree on Uncle Percy. Collectively, he’s the least liked in the family next to Aunt Fleur.

 

 

 

It isn’t long after the argument ends that people start to show up, my parents being the first.

 

 

 

My dad comes right to me, his eyes swollen from tears, and hugs me tightly. I want to push him away but I don’t. I just stand there stiffly until he kisses the top of my head and walks away.

 

 

 

A line forms and I am hugged by almost every member of my family. I never want to be touched again.

 

 

 

Rose stirs and I watch through the crowd as she speaks to Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron. She looks worried. She always does. I know her well enough to know that her worry is selfless. She’s probably asking how everyone else is.

 

 

 

Over the chatter I hear a knock at the front door. I don’t know who it could be. There are so many people in my kitchen, lounge, and dining room that it is hard to know who all is here.

 

 

 

Three more loud knocks hit the outside of the door. Mum must have heard them, as she calls, “Roxanne, can you please get that?”

 

 

 

I nod, silently vowing that I will punch whoever it is if they cry on me or try to touch me.

 

 

 

The knocks start up again, louder this time.

 

 

 

“I’m bloody coming,” I say as I grab the doorknob. I interrupt the noise as I yank the door open with more effort than needed.

 

 

 

I expect to see a familiar face but instead I stare up at a man I don’t recognize but am immediately taken aback by. He looks rugged. Severe. With cold, threatening narrowed eyes. His shirt, pants, and thick jacket all black.    

  
  
  


“I—” he starts to say. I see the intensity leave his dark brown eyes, his full lips parted without words leaving them. He suddenly looks as confused as I feel. He hesitates, staring at me, then brings his hand up to his mouth and I watch him clench his angular, shadowed jaw as if he’s trying to compose himself.

 

 

 

My mouth hangs agape, my eyebrows knitting. I’m about to speak—but his eyes leave mine before I have the chance.

 

 

 

“P-Potter. Sir. I was told by the Ministry that I would be able to find you here,” he says. His deep voice is detached. Cold. Like his eyes.

 

 

 

I look over my shoulder. Uncle Harry is making his way toward us. He disregards my presence and squeezes through the door, motioning for the man to follow as he sets off down the hall.

 

 

 

“Any updates?” I hear Uncle Harry ask. The man’s response is muffled by their footsteps and the chatter behind me.

 

 

 

“Who was that?” I hear Dom’s voice so close to me that it causes me to jump and wheel around too quickly. I slam the door shut on accident.

 

 

 

“I have no idea,” I say. “Someone from the Ministry.”

 

 

 

“Well, if he was looking for Uncle Harry he’s probably an Auror,” she says. “He’s hot. Do you think he’s coming back?”

 

 

 

“I doubt it,” I say as we start through the crowd.   

 

 

 

My mum catches my eye and says, “Roxanne, who was at the door?”

 

 

 

“Someone for Uncle Harry,” I tell her. She nods.

 

 

 

“Did he leave with him?” asks Aunt Ginny. I’m not afraid of much, but the look on her face is terrifying. Especially so, as she’s holding a knife.

 

 

 

“Er, yeah. They walked down the hall,” I say.

 

 

 

She sighs through gritted teeth and looks back at the vegetables she’s cutting.  

 

 

 

“Oi. Give him a break, Gin,” says Uncle Ron. “The man’s gotta work.”

 

 

 

“Shut your mouth, Ron,” she snaps without looking at him.

 

 

 

“Let’s get away before she throws a knife at him again,” Dom whispers.

 

 

 

We go to my bedroom. Even though it’s right across the hall from Fred’s room, it’s better to be in it than with the lot in the kitchen and lounge. Dom sits in front of my mirror pampering herself while I dig through my wardrobe for clothes to change into. I promised myself I would burn my dress and that’s what I plan on doing as soon as I get the chance.

 

 

 

Dom looks at my reflection in the mirror as I adjust my tshirt. “Ugh. Those trousers are so bloody cute. It’s a shame they’d never fit me. You’re so bloody small.”

 

 

 

I glare at her. She laughs. Dom is only one-eighth Veela but still has a perfect body. She’s tall, thin, and curvy in all of the right places. While I am short and scrawny with the body of a bloody third year boy.

 

 

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, grinning. “You look like a little kid.”

 

 

 

“Cheers,” I say bitterly. I loathe being so small.

 

 

 

There is a knock at my door seconds before it starts opening. Albus and his girlfriend Alice Longbottom stand in the hall.

 

 

 

“Hey, Dom,” she says, looking from Dom to me. “Hey, Roxanne.”

 

 

 

Dom perks up and spins around on the floor to face them. I can’t help but to notice the way her eyes light up and linger on Alice, or the way she smiles at her.

 

 

 

“Come on in,” Dom says. I like how she invites people into my room when I came in it to get away from them.

 

 

 

But Alice is an exception, I guess. I like her well enough. She’s not particularly chatty. Not with me. I know she won’t mention Fred. She knows how it feels to lose someone.

 

 

 

Her mum died a few months ago. She got the disease. I can still see sadness in her eyes from her loss.

 

 

 

I refuse to look like that.  

 

 

 

“I can’t,” Alice says. “My dad and I are leaving. I just wanted to say hi to both of you, since I didn’t get to...earlier.”

 

 

 

“Oh...Well, maybe you can come over sometime,” Dom says cheerfully.

 

 

 

“Yeah. I’ll owl you. I should get going, though. I don’t want to keep Dad waiting.”

 

 

 

“I’ll walk you out,” Albus says, putting his hand on Alice’s waist.

 

 

 

I look at Dom to see her looking away from the pair.

 

 

 

The urge to comment rises in my throat, but I hesitate until I think they are far enough away before I say, “Do you want me to ask her if she likes girls?”

 

 

 

Dom whips her head around and snaps, “What?!”

 

 

 

“I said, do you want me to ask her if she likes girls,” I say again.

 

 

 

“I heard you the first time,” she says. She gives me a nasty look. “Stop being disgusting.”

 

 

 

“I don’t think I’m being disgusting, but.” I shrug.

 

 

 

“Well, I do. So shut up.”

 

 

 

I sit down on my bed and Dom turns to face my mirror again. I don’t say anything else. I can tell that she isn’t very pleased with me. It was tactless enough to mention it at all. Tactlessness is a familial trait, apparently.

 

 

 

Albus returns to my room a few minutes later, Rose lingering behind him.

 

 

 

“How are you feeling, Rose?” I ask.

 

 

 

She gives me a weak smile. “Fine, thanks.”

 

 

 

I know she’s not saying it to make any of us worry any less. While she still looks pale and feeble, she doesn’t look as bad as she did earlier.

 

 

 

I pat the spot next to me on my bed and she sits down as Albus sits on the floor in front of us.

 

 

 

“What happened anyway, Rose?” asks Albus.

 

 

 

Dom sighs loudly. “We went over this already. It was the heat!”

 

 

 

“How do you know that?” he says.  

 

 

 

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe because it’s bloody hot outside?”

  
  
  


“With everything that’s happening, why are you so quick to assume—”

 

 

 

“Why are you so quick to assume things, Albus?” she snaps.

 

 

 

“Because people are dying!” he yells.

 

 

 

“People die every day. There’s no need to get your knickers in a twist—”

 

 

 

“Not like this! This is different and you know it, Dom,” he says. “Something’s happening.”

 

 

 

“Yeah, karma,” Dom says. “Don’t act like everyone who has kicked it didn’t deserve it.”

 

 

 

“Alice’s mum didn’t deserve it,” he says harshly. “Fred didn’t deserve it.”

 

 

 

“Hey,” I snap. I feel heat rushing to my face. “That’s not what happened to Fred.”

 

 

 

“We don’t know that. We don’t know why he—”

 

 

 

“Shut up!” I shout. “We’re not bloody talking about this anymore.”

 

 

 

“We have to talk about it!”

 

 

 

“Why?” Dom interjects. “To feed into your Potter complex a bit more?”     

 

 

 

“Because it’s getting worse!”

 

 

 

“Guys,” Rose says quietly. We all look at her. Her blue eyes shine with tears. “Please, stop fighting.”

 

 

 

And just like that, Rose gets all of us to calm down.

 

 

 

A long pause of silence follows and Albus is the first to break it. “I overheard my dad talking to Teddy...The disease is getting worse. It’s spreading. Fast. The Ministry is a mess.”

 

 

 

Dom snorts. “Of course it’s a mess, Alb. Did you forget that they thought Voldemort was behind this at first? They’re mental. If it wasn’t for the Scrofungulus theory, they’d still think that.”

 

 

 

“Well, it isn’t Scrofungulus either,” Albus says.

 

 

 

“Duh,” says Dom. “Honestly, anyone who has ever picked up a book could figure that one out. Scrofungulus doesn’t cause total loss or control of your magic.”

 

 

 

“It doesn’t affect your magic at all,” I say. “Why did they even assume it was Scrofungulus?”

 

 

 

“Because they had to have something to blame,” says Albus. “Scrofungulus doesn’t fit what’s been happening. That’s why they said it was a rare strain of it...but now...More people at the Ministry are losing their powers. They want real answers.”

 

 

 

Dom scoffs, “Then they should prepare to give real answers.”

 

 

 

“That’s the thing.” Albus sighs. “They don’t have an answer. They don’t know what’s happening or what’s causing it.”

 

 

 

“Or how it’s spreading,” I say.

 

 

 

“Right,” he nods.

 

 

 

“But instead of saying that, they’re just going to keep up the Scrofungulus excuse? Why am I not surprised?” Dom says.

 

 

 

“Dad hates what they’re doing,” he says. “But he can’t do anything to stop them. It isn’t his department that’s in control of what the public gets to know. But he’s doing everything that he can to try and figure out what’s really happening...he’s got lots of Aurors out chasing any leads they can find.”

 

 

 

I immediately think of the man who showed up at my front door. He must be one of them.

 

 

 

“So what? He thinks it’s some sort of dark wizard behind it, then?” Dom asks.

 

 

 

Albus shrugs. “He doesn’t know, but Aurors are trained to handle them if they are behind it. Anyway, that’s why I was concerned over you, Rose. It’s spreading...and...”

 

 

 

“I’m fine,” Rose says sweetly. “Really. It was the heat.”

 

 

 

“I told you so, Albus,” Dom says.

 

 

 

“But how do you know that for sure?” Albus asks, ignoring Dom completely. “You’re underage. You can’t do magic outside of school...None of us can. So how would any of us know that we’re fine?”

 

 

 

How would any of us know?

  
  
  
  



	2. Pain. Fear. Fury.

With everything that was happening, Fred’s death could only be the topic of conversation for so long. In the span of a month, dozens more have been stricken with the disease. Over half of them are dead.

 

Every selfish bone in my body is thankful for them.

 

I hear my parents argue as I lay in bed. I can’t make out what they say word for word. I don’t care to. They have been going at it nonstop for the last two weeks and I have no idea why.

 

I fold my pillow over my ears to muffle their voices and close my eyes. With the faint sounds coming through my window from Diagon Alley below, it isn’t long before I start to doze off.

 

I’m only sleep for what feels like seconds when a sudden tapping noise stirs me. I lean my head back to see Hartley, my Barn Owl, trying to stuff her head through the small opening in the window. I groan as I sit up and move to let her in.

 

She lands gracefully on her perch and I give her head a quick pat. I’m surprised when I see a piece of parchment tied to her foot since she was only out hunting.

 

I pull it away and unfold it. The scratchy script on the front of the post is easily recognizable, however it only confuses me. How did Hartley get to Cornwall and back in less than an hour to deliver a post from Dominique?

 

Come down stairs!

 

Oh. She didn’t. Why is Dominique down stairs? And why doesn’t she just come up?

 

“Piss off, George!”

 

Oh. That’s why.

 

I open my door slowly and poke my head out of it. From the pitch of my parents’ bickering voices I can tell that they’re in the lounge. I creep down the hall. Neither of them notice me as I move right by them. They’re too immersed in their argument, which I still don’t understand, but I’m quick to avoid.

 

I close the front door quietly behind me. Even after I get down the stairs and into the shop, I can still hear my mum yelling at my dad.

 

Dom stands by the front counter next to Uncle Ron who is sitting behind it with his feet kicked up, eating a Cauldron Cake.

 

“What are you doing here?” I say as walk toward them.

 

“Emergency family meeting,” Dominique says. “What’s going on up there?”

 

I shrug. “I have no bloody idea. They’ve been at it for weeks. The only time either of them shuts up is when they’re sleeping.”

 

“Angelina’s scaring away all the business,” Uncle Ron says as he chews.

 

“You look  terribly worried over that, Uncle Ron,” Dom snorts.

 

“Well, in this economy...” he starts, but has to stop to swallow his giant bite of cake.

 

I grab one of the Cauldron cakes from the container. “What did you mean when you said emergency family meeting?” I ask before Uncle Ron can continue.

 

“I’m not sure,” she says. She crinkles her nose up as she watches me eat my Cauldron Cake in the same manner as Uncle Ron. Like a complete slob. “How are you so thin?! You’re always shoveling those disgusting things into your mouth.”

 

“Have you met either of our fathers?” I mumble, mouth full. “They’re not disgusting either. Anyway, focus, Dom. What’s up with the family meeting?”

 

“Like I said, I’m not sure,” she says again. “Uncle Harry stopped by this morning and said he wants everyone to come around his for dinner. I was sent by Dad to tell your lot. Apparently he’s got something to tell the lot of us.”

 

“Oh!” Uncle Ron says, slamming his hand down on the countertop. “That’s right. Hermione owled me about that this morning. M’supposed to get Rose and Hugo and bring them over.”

 

“Do you have any idea what he wants to tell  all of us?” I ask.

 

He shakes his head. “Mione didn’t give me much detail. Said she’d explain everything when we get there.”

 

“Do you think Albus knows anything?” I ask Dom.

 

“He might,” she says. “Do you want to head on over?”

 

I nod. I want to get as far away from the shop and my flat as I can, as fast as I can.

 

“Er, Rox,” says Uncle Ron hesitantly, “you don’t reckon you could go tell your mum and dad about the meeting, do you?”

 

I laugh dryly. “Not a chance.”

 

He sighs, defeated. Dom grabs my arm and pulls me away from the counter and over towards the fireplace. I pick up a handful of Floo powder and step onto the hearth.

 

Emerald flames rise around me as I throw the Floo powder at my feet and say, “Godric’s Hollow.”

 

I see several flashes from other fireplaces before the travel stops and I’m looking into Aunt Gin and Uncle Harry’s living room. I quickly step out, not wanting Dom to land on top of me.

 

I see Aunt Gin from where I stand, sweeping the kitchen floor. It seems like a pointless task, as James is walking behind her dropping crumbs.

 

I hear the flames rise behind me as Dominique arrives.

 

“You’ve spent too much time with your Uncle Ron,” Aunt Ginny says, swiping at James’ calf with the broom bristles. “Grab a bloody plate!”

 

“Ow!” James jumps away from her, causing more crisp crumbs to hit the floor. “Y’know, Mum, you could spell the broom to sweep the floor for you.”

 

“Well,  you could learn to do a thing or two by hand,” she says, hitting him again.

 

Dom and I snort, and it is then that they notice us.

 

“Roxy, Dom, I didn’t even know you were here,” Aunt Gin says.

 

“We just got here,” I say.

 

“Perfect timing, if you ask me,” Dom says. “It’s always nice to see someone give James a good whack.”

 

“Why are you two so bloody violent?” asks James.

 

“Ole Roxy’s the violent one,” Dom says, patting the top of my head. “I just have a good sense of humor.”

 

I shove Dom away. I can’t stand when she, or anyone else does that to me. It reminds me of how bloody short I am. I don’t bother addressing the fact that Dom says I’m violent, though. It’s partially true.

 

“I don’t think she’s violent,” says Aunt Gin. She smiles at me. “You’re just feisty. You get it from me, you know.”

 

“That’s what I’ve always been told,” I say. It was true. Ever since I can remember, I was told I’m just like Aunt Gin.

 

“Aunt Gin,” Dom says, “what’s with this family meeting Uncle Harry called for?”

 

“Some news he got at work today,” she says. “He’ll explain everything once he’s home and everyone else is here.”

 

Dom and I exchange a look. Uncle Harry is the head of the Auror’s office at the Ministry. What kind of news could he have gotten that he would want to share with  all of us?

 

We find Albus in his bedroom. I don’t know why I’m surprised to see Scorpius Malfoy there with him. They’ve been mates since our first year, and ever since Scorpius’ dad died he has practically been living with the Potters. I don’t like the idea of having anything in common with him—but we seem to be dealing with our losses in a similar way. Outwardly ignoring them.

 

“You’re here early,” Albus says, looking up at Dom and me as we step inside of his room. Scorpius pays us little attention, only glancing up from the Quidditch magazine he’s reading. I feel sick at the sight of it. I don’t understand how he’s reading it.

 

“Well, we wanted to see if we could get any information from you,” Dom says, kicking articles of clothing out of her way as she walks. “Ugh, Albus when is the last time you cleaned this filth?”

 

“Those clothes are mine,” Scorpius sneers. “Stop kicking them around.”

 

“It’s nice to see you, too, Scorp,” Dom says plopping down on Albus’ bed.

 

I sit on Albus’ other side. “So, what do you know?”

 

“Not much,” Albus says. “Dad stopped saying too much about what’s going on in the house. I’m pretty sure it’s upsetting Mum…Anyway, I just know that whatever he’s got to tell us has to do with the…”

 

“Disease.” Scorpius scoffs. “You don’t have to tiptoe around the conversation, Al. We all know my dad died because of it. Say what you have to say.”

 

“I thought we agreed that it’s not Scrofungulus,” I say.

 

“We did,” Albus says. “It’s not Scrofungulus. But the Ministry is still calling it that.”

 

“Okay,” Dom starts, “so the Ministry doesn’t have any updates then?”

 

“As far as I know, no. Not about that part of it anyway,” he says. “But Dad got some information this morning. Apparently it’s big news.”

 

“How big?” asks Dom.

 

“Big enough to be in the  Prophet ,” he says. “I heard Dad telling one of his co-workers who stopped by that they’re supposed to be releasing a statement.”

 

“The Auror’s office is releasing a statement?” I say. “Or the Ministry?”

 

“The Ministry,” he says.

 

“…But you just said that they don’t have any updates,” Dom says. “How can they release a statement if they don’t have any updates?”

 

Albus shrugs. “Like I said, I don’t know much.”

 

“But they must know something,” I say. “Your dad wouldn’t call all of us around for no good reason.”

 

“Right. And Uncle Harry wouldn’t feed us lies from the Ministry. We all know he doesn’t trust them,” Dom says.

 

There is a knock at Albus’ door and we all look to see Rose as it opens.

 

“I need air,” Scorpius says suddenly. He throws the Quidditch magazine down on the floor as he stands and brushes by Rose without even looking at her.

 

“You wanker!” I snap. “Watch where you’re going.”

 

“It’s fine, Roxy,” Rose says timidly. She sits down in the seat Scorpius vacated. “He’s just upset.”

 

I huff. It’s really hard to deal with Rose sometimes. A lot of the time. She’s too nice for her own good.

 

“Doesn’t give him the right to be a complete arse,” says Dom. “Oi, Rose. Aunt Mione works with Uncle Harry. Did she tell you what’s going on?”

 

Rose shakes her head gently. “I tried asking. She says it isn’t anything to worry about and that she and Uncle Harry will explain what’s going on at dinner.”

 

“Why do I feel like that gives us every reason to worry?” says Dom.

 

“Because it usually does,” I say.

 

“See why I kept saying we have to talk about this?” Albus says. “They’re being too cryptic.”

 

“ROXANNE WEASLEY!” my mum’s voice booms suddenly. We all jump. 

 

“Bloody Hell,” Dom pants, her hand clutching the left side of her chest. “What did you do, Rox?”

 

“I didn’t do anything,” I say. “I literally haven’t even—”

 

“GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

 

“I’m coming!” I snap, pushing up from Albus’ bed. I stomp out of his room, down the hall, then down the stairs.

 

I see my mum standing at the bottom of the staircase, my dad standing behind her.

 

“What?” I say, unable to hide my annoyance.

 

“Don’t  what me,” she seethes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Standing here,” I say, “getting yelled at for no reason?”

 

My dad snorts but quickly covers it up as a cough as he puts his hand over his mouth.

 

“Don’t get smart,” she says. “Did I say you could leave the flat?”

 

“Erm, no, but I didn’t ask either, so…” I shrug.

 

“What makes you think you can leave without asking permission?” she says.

 

“Oh come on, Ange,” says Dad. “She’s been going in and out on her own since her fourth year and it’s never been an issue.”

 

“Yeah, well, that was before our son died!” she snaps. “I dunno about you, George, but I’d like to give Roxanne a fighting chance!” 

 

I feel my heart begin to race and my hands begin to shake from anger. I ball them into fists. My anger rises as I watch my dad’s eyes drop to the floor. I don’t know what infuriates me more. The mention of Fred or that my mum seems to be blaming my father for what happened to him.

 

“Maybe if you weren’t always bloody screaming at him, I’d stop to tell you what I’m doing,” I yell. “Or maybe you’d notice I’d left in the first place! I did walk  right by you when I left.”

 

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” she says.

 

“Don’t treat me like I’m a bloody child and I won’t!” I say.

 

“You  are a child!”

 

“I’ll be seventeen in less than a month,” I say, “so no, I’m not.”

 

We attract an audience. Aunt Gin, Uncle Ron, Uncle Bill, Aunt Fleur, Aunt Audrey, Uncle Percy, and several of my cousins gape at us. Even Rose, Albus, and Dom have come to watch us from over the banister at the top of the stairs.

 

The only thing that takes the attention away from us is a loud  POP . Everyone turns to see Uncle Harry standing in the middle of the room looking wide eyed and confused.

 

“We’ll be talking about this later,” Mum hisses at me. She bumps into my father as she storms away.

 

“It looks like everyone is here,” Uncle Harry says awkwardly. “Erm. Teddy should be along shortly. We’ll get started then.”

 

Ϟ

 

We all sit around a table that has been spelled to accommodate everyone in the family. Harry stands at the end of it with Teddy and Aunt Hermione. I’m not sure what Teddy’s purpose is. Comic relief, perhaps, as he keeps changing his nose into snout behind Uncle Harry’s back. Lily and Lucy laugh quietly as they watch him. I’m too angry to do much of anything but stare ahead coldly.

 

“So,” Uncle Harry starts. “I know you’re all wondering what you’re doing here so I’m just going to get straight to it. We’re all aware of the disease that’s been spreading. We’re all also aware that it isn’t Scrofungulus even though the Ministry still claims that’s what’s causing… everything …Right?”

 

Everyone nods.

 

“Good,” he continues. “I don’t have to list the fatalities or what the disease does to someone who is infected with it, but I do have to say what we all know. That it drains one of their magic. The reason I have to say it, is because more of us in this room than not, can’t tell if their powers are gone. The lot of you who are underage can’t do magic outside of school to know either way.”

 

Dom, Albus and I glance at each other.

 

“Uncle Harry,” says Victoire in the brief pause, “I thought that the disease was only affecting…older witches and wizards. I mean, there haven’t been any reports of anyone particularly young…”

 

Uncle Harry sets his jaw. “There was a fatality reported yesterday. A student—”

 

“Who!?” Albus says suddenly. “Dad. You didn’t say a word about this to us!”

 

He sighs. “I’m not allowed to say everything I hear at work, Albus,” he says. “It’s an on-going investigation. We’re not completely sure that the disease is what caused it, but it looks as though it could have been.”

 

“You still didn’t tell us  who died,” Albus says. “Who is it?”

 

Uncle Harry hesitates. He looks at Aunt Hermione. She nods. “Tell them, Harry.”

 

“Lorcan Scamander.”

 

I put my hand over my mouth. Everyone around me gasps. Lorcan is my age.  Was my age. Lorcan was wiped from existence. My heart suddenly feels heavy. I want to cry. My lip quivers. I clamp my hand firmer against my mouth to stop it. I want to scream. I grit my teeth instead.

 

“Wh—what happened?” sputters Dominique. Her voice sounds strained. Like she’s being choked.

 

Uncle Harry sighs. “We can’t say…It’s too soon to know anything for sure. Like I said, it’s being investigated.”

 

There is a sudden uproar at the table. Lily, Lucy, Molly, Hugo, Albus, Dom, Victoire all speak over each other, shouting questions at Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione.

 

I don’t say a word. I can’t. If I speak I fear my words will be strangled by the tears that burn at my eyes and threaten spill out. I curl my fingers into tight fists. They shake. I bite at my knuckle. I refuse to cry.

 

“Listen!” Uncle Harry finally says, slapping his hands onto the tabletop. The room falls silent. “I know you have questions. We all have questions and I wish more than anything that I could give you the answers. But I can’t. I didn’t call all of you here to announce Lorcan Scamander’s death. I’m sorry…I know all of you knew him. I know it’s not easy. But the purpose of this meeting was to inform you of something else entirely. We had been wondering if younger witches and wizards were at risk, but really there was no way to know and until yesterday there had been no reports of anyone underage being affected.”

 

“So when word reached our office,” Aunt Hermione speaks up, “we went straight to the Minister of Magic. It’s in the best interest of everyone, really, to know either way. So we developed a test. A quick way to test your magical abilities on a scale of functionality. All students will be required to take it.”

 

“ All students?” says Victoire. “Even those of us who can do magic outside of school?”

 

Aunt Hermione nods. “Yes,” she says. “You see, the disease doesn’t wipe them out immediately. It’s different for every person, but it’s usually a slow decline in function. The test will measure your abilities on a scale adjusted to fit you individually. For example, as an up and coming Seventh year student, your magical abilities would be stronger than Molly’s, who is only going into her Fifth year It would be impossible to compare the results of people on different magical levels. So the test is tailored for each of you, based on year, abilities, and previous grades.”

 

“What exactly is this test like?” asks Dom.

 

“It’s very simple and very short,” she says. “You’ll be asked to perform a series of spells and the efficiency and power of each spell will be monitored. That’s all.”

 

“And we’ll find out then?” Dom says. “You know, if we’re okay or not.”

 

“You’ll get your results as soon as they’re processed,” Aunt Hermione says.

 

“When is this happening?” asks Albus. “When are we doing the tests?”

 

“Tomorrow morning,” says Uncle Harry. “It’s the Ministry’s number one priority.”

 

Ϟ

 

Dom, Rose, Victoire, Hugo, and I all stay at Aunt Gin and Uncle Harry’s house that night and wake up early the next morning. We use the Floo network to get to the Ministry of Magic and we are taken by Uncle Harry to a floor with a long, wide, dark corridor to wait.

 

Uncle Harry, Aunt Hermione, and Uncle Percy are all helping with the tests so we sit and stand amongst every other Hogwarts student until we begin to be divided by year.

 

Louis, Lucy and Hugo are the first to go, as they’re called to join the up and coming fourth years. Then Lily and Molly join the group of up and coming fifth years. Albus, Dom, Rose and I are the next to leave to join the sixth years. We are accompanied by Scorpius, who stayed with the lot of us the night before.

 

We wait in a small but packed room that is far too quiet for the amount of people occupying it. The tension in the room builds as names are called out in alphabetical order.

 

Some walk out of the test room looking relieved. Smiling, even. While others walk out looking terrified. Some even crying. 

 

“This isn’t good,” Albus whispers. “This is bigger than anyone thought it was.”

 

Even knowing that he’s right, I don’t feel nervous. I don’t allow myself to feel anything.

 

“Malfoy, Scorpius,” calls one of the testers. Scorpius moves to his feet.

 

“G—good luck, Scorp,” says Rose kindly.

 

Scorpius glares at her before walking away.

 

“Do you think I could get away with hexing him here?” I say, glaring at the back of his platinum head.  

 

Dom snorts. “Please try it.”

 

Rose sighs. “Guys, leave him alone.”

 

“What?!” Dom and I say in stereo. “Rose, he’s horrible to you,” I say.

 

“Yeah. He’s a smug little git,” Dom says. “I don’t know why you like him. Or why you’re even friends with him, Alb.”

 

“He’s going through a lot right now,” Rose says.

 

“Yeah, he doesn’t really have anyone,” Albus agrees. “I mean, his dad died. His mum is sick. Both sets of his grandparents are dead. All of his aunts and uncles are…We’re all he has.”

 

That’s enough to shut both Dom and me up. I still don’t like him. Or the way he treats Rose.

 

A little while later, the door opens up and Scorpius makes his way out of it. Considering he always looks like he smelled something foul, it’s hard to read his expression.

 

Rose and Albus move to their feet.

 

“Mate,” says Albus. “How did you do?”

 

“How do you  think I did?” he snaps. He says nothing else as he storms by us and out of the room completely. The door slams shut behind him. 

 

Rose immediately falls onto her seat. I don’t even like Scorpius Malfoy but I feel a sting in my chest. He’s infected.

 

We sit in silence until Albus’ name is called. We wish him good luck and he nods graciously and disappears. It feels like hours go by before he returns. I know as soon as I see him that he’s okay. I sigh in relief.

 

“What happened?” Dom asks as soon as he’s sitting with us again.

 

Albus explains the test in detail. It seems to go exactly how Aunt Mione had explained it.

 

“Weasley, Dominique.”

 

I smile at Dom. We aren’t the emotional type so I don’t offer a hug nor does she go in for one. She simply nods, smiles back, and turns away. I’m not nervous…but I am for Dom. She isn’t just my cousin. She’s my best friend. My sister. The thought alone of losing her makes me feel like I’m choking.

 

She returns to the room, smiling and almost bouncing as she mutters things in French. I know she’s okay.

 

“Weasley, Rose.”

 

I’m not the hugging type, but I try to give Rose a one armed one. I know she wants it. Dom does the same. Together we give her what would be equal to a  real hug from  one person.

 

“You’re going to be fine, Rose,” says Dom.

 

Rose nods. I doubt she’s worried about her own results. She has no reason to be. When she returns, her eyes glisten with tears but she’s smiling. Sweet Rose is fine.

 

“Weasley, Roxanne.”

 

I set my jaw and stand, wand in hand. Dom smiles at me, as does Rose and Albus. I nod.

 

I follow the woman through the door and into a room that’s dark and glows blue.

 

There are a line of people, Ministry officials, seated on one side of it. A single chair rests in the middle.

 

“Please step forward and present your wand,” says an elderly man. As I approach him, I notice that Teddy is standing in the corner of the room, grinning at me. I try to grin back, but it’s weak and doesn’t reach my eyes.

 

I set my wand before the old man, who picks it up and examines it. “Core, wood, and length?”

 

“Unicorn hair, willow, nine inches,” I say.

 

“And this is your first and only wand?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He hands it back. “State your full name, date of birth and age.”

 

“Roxanne Belle Weasley. Ninth of September, 2003. I’m sixteen years old.”

 

“You’re going into your sixth year at Hogwarts?”

 

“Obviously,” I say.

 

The man looks up at me with a slight glare. “Take a seat and we’ll begin.”

 

I sit in the stiff, cold chair, my wand resting between my palms.

 

“Ms. Weasley, please cast Lumos.”

 

“Lumos,” I say. My wand tip lights up.

 

“And Nox.”

 

“Nox,” I say. The light goes out.

 

“Summon this paperweight.”

 

I hold my wand out and say, “Accio paperweight,” as I give it a flick. The paperweight rises and soars towards me. I don’t know if they expect me to catch it, but I don’t. Instead I dodge it and watch as it hits the ground and breaks.

 

Teddy snorts from his corner of the room then clears his throat. Wordlessly, he repairs the broken paperweight and sends it back to its spot on the counter.

 

“Are you able to cast a Patronus charm?”

 

I nod. “Yes.”

 

“Is it fully formed? If so, what shape does it take?”

 

I grimace. “That of a cat,” I say.

 

“Okay, now if you could, please cast your Patronus.”

 

I hold my wand out again. “Expecto Patronum!” I say loudly. Blue mist spews from my wand…but it takes no shape and quickly disappears.

 

“How many times have you cast your Patronus successfully, Ms. Weasley?”

 

“I’m not sure,” I say.

 

“Would you say you’ve done it more than twenty or so times?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t keep a tally,” I say.

 

“Would you like to try again, then?”

 

I nod. I hold my wand out, focusing harder this time. “Expecto Patronum!”

 

There’s a jolt through my wand that knocks me back. Blue mist shoots out of it quickly. It takes the form of a cat that runs wildly around the room.

 

I smile as I watch it. Mostly out of pride, because I loathe cats. I don’t understand  why my Patronus takes that form.

 

The men and women at the table exchange unreadable looks before the only man who has been speaking looks at me. “I see from your records that you received an Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration on your O.W.L.S. Please stand, come forth, and transfigure the paperweight into a goblet.”

 

I stand and walk forward. I point my wand at the paperweight…and just as I flick it, the paperweight crumbles into thousands of tiny pieces of metal.

 

Teddy is fast to repair it. Again.  

 

“All right, Ms. Weasley,” says the old man. “That’s all.”

 

“Well,” I say. “How did I do?”

 

The old man hesitates. “Your results are inconclusive.”

 

Ϟ

 

“What did they mean by inconclusive?” Dom asks. “How could your bloody results be  inconclusive ?! You can either do magic or you can’t.”

 

“That’s not true,” Albus says. “Aunt Hermione said that the test measures power and efficiency. It’s not just about being able to do it or not being able to do it. It’s about how  well or  unwell you can do it.”

 

“Yeah, until your powers are gone completely,” Dom says.

 

“You two are really making this so much better for me right now,” I say bitterly, plopping down on a chair at the kitchen table. We’re back at Albus’ house, waiting for an adult to fully explain my test results to me.

 

“But your powers aren’t gone, Rox,” says Dom. “You were able to do everything, weren’t you?”

 

“Except for transfigure the paperweight,” I say. “And something weird happened when I cast my Patronus the second time.”

 

“Weird?” says Albus.

 

“It hurt,” I say. “Like it was too strong or something. It jostled me.”

 

There are three loud  POPS in the next room and within seconds I see Aunt Hermione, Uncle Harry, and my dad rushing into the kitchen.

 

“What’s going on?” Albus says.

 

“We were just informed of Roxanne’s results,” says Uncle Harry. “We stopped by Diagon Alley to get George.”

 

Aunt Hermione is holding a scroll of parchment. She sits down next me and gestures for my dad to join us. I’m glad they didn’t get my mum.

 

“As soon as I heard of your results I asked for a copy of them,” Aunt Hermione says, pulling the parchment straight. “I helped develop the test so I can find out why they were inconclusive.” She scans the parchment silently. I stare at it without seeing anything.

 

“Your overall functionality wasn’t so bad. A little low for someone at your level and with your grades, but it’s not bad enough to confirm the disease.”

 

“But not good enough to deny it?” I say flatly.

 

She shakes her head. “That’s not exactly how it works. I mean, it is, but they take an average from the spells you cast. Your Patronus is what made them inconclusive.”

 

“What about shattering the paperweight?” I say. “I mean…It literally shattered.”

 

“Yes, but that could have been a fluke,” says Aunt Hermione. “You see, they used the same one on everyone and there’s only so much transfiguration an object can take. Plus, it says you didn’t catch it and it shattered when you summoned it.”

 

“Yeah. Teddy had to fix it,” I say.

 

“Which could have been another reason it didn’t transfigure for you,” she says. “But your Patronus…You see, they’re a very special sort of magic. Very…emotional. Your test givers didn’t know about Fred to know to take it into consideration. When someone goes through something emotional…It does things to their Patronus.”

 

I blink. I don’t understand but I don’t ask for an explanation.

 

“Even though the paperweight crumbled, your results would have been fine. It was your Patronus that curved them and put them on the line between functional and nonfunctional,” Aunt Hermione went on. “It was more powerful than it should have been. But there’s a very big chance that it’s because of…everything that’s been happening.”

 

“So what do we do now?” Dad says.

 

“Roxanne will take the test again.” She looks at me. “It’ll be a longer test, with more spells. As long as your functionality doesn’t drop, you’re fine.”

 

Ϟ

 

Teddy escorts me to the Ministry for my retest. It isn’t as early this time, but there aren’t nearly as many test takers here this time either. We’re separated by year again and when we walk into the small room I only see a handful of people. Lysander Scamander being one of them.

 

I want to say hi to him but I can’t find it in myself. I can hardly even look at him. I know his pain. I wish I didn’t.

 

I sit beside Teddy who makes it a point to make lighthearted jokes even though I don’t laugh at them. I don’t even smile. I just grunt every now and again to let him know I’m paying attention and even appreciate his efforts. 

 

The door to the testing room opens and Lysander is called in. I watch him until he disappears behind it.

 

“Lupin,” says a  cold and somehow familiar voice. I lean forward on my seat to look at the ajar door. I know the man standing on the threshold. It’s the same man who showed up at my flat looking for Uncle Harry.

 

I stare at his slightly bronzed, scruff covered face then at his shoulders. He’s dressed in black from there to his feet. When I look up again, our eyes meet, but only for a second.

 

“Sir?” says Teddy.

 

“A word?” the man says, inclining his head toward the hall.

 

Teddy nods quickly. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

 

I don’t say anything, but watch as he stands and exits the room behind the man who looks so out of place here.

 

Lysander exits the test center and another student is called in before Teddy returns.

 

“Sorry that took so long,” says Teddy as he sits down. “We’re busy in the Auror’s office. Lots going on. Lots to prepare for. How are you feeling? You nervous?”

 

Yes . I shrug. “I don’t know,” I say. “I guess I should be, shouldn’t I?”

 

“I would suggest pretending that they’re all in their knickers but that might make you ill,” he says.

 

I actually laugh. He laughs too. “You’ll be all right, Roxanne.”

 

The door opens.

 

“Weasley, Roxanne.”

 

I don’t feel all right.

 

I stand and follow the woman into the test room. I’m asked to present my wand, say its core, wood, and length, then state my full name, date of birth, and year I’m going into before the test starts.

 

Lumos and Nox are my first tasks. I do them without any issues. Again I’m asked to summon a paperweight. I’m also asked to catch it. I do both with ease.

 

I’m told to use Gemino to duplicate a piece of parchment. It duplicates five times instead of one. I start to worry. That is until they tell me to use Alohomora to unlock a door. The knob explodes. I start to panic.

 

However, when I’m asked to transform the paperweight into a goblet I do it with an easy flick.

 

“Now fill it with water.”

 

“Aguamenti,” I say. A jet of water spews from my wand, filling the goblet to its rim.

 

“We’re going to release a boggart,” the man says. “Use Riddikulus to transform it.”

 

My throat tightens. I’m terrified of what I might see. Boggarts can take the form of any fear. I hope I don’t see Fred.

 

I don’t see Fred. I see a giant bolt of lightning. I point my wand at it and shout, “Riddikulus!” It bursts into air like one of my dad’s explosives.

 

“Your last spell will be your Patronus,” says the elderly man. “When you’re ready, cast it.”

 

I think about what Aunt Hermione told me. Patronuses are emotional spells. Then all I can think of is Fred. I don’t want to think of Fred. I set my jaw and grit my teeth, my arm reared back.

 

“Expecto Patronum!” I say. My body is pushed back by an invisible force and I stagger until I fall. The blue mist forms a cat that runs around the room just like it did last time.

 

Something warm and thick trickles from my nose. I wipe my fingertips across it and look at them. They’re covered in blood.

 

I try to stand, but I can’t get past my knees. I look up at the row of Ministry officials. They stare back me.

 

“Ms. Weasley…” the man begins. He adjusts his glasses. “We regret to inform you that, according to your results, you have Scrofungulus.”

 

I feel pain. I feel fear. I feel fury.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review! Also, please, please remember that I do in fact know that the Weasley-Potters aren't as close in age as I've written them!


	3. Defense.

“I’m not going back to school,” I say. I slam the top of my trunk shut. 

My mum flicks her wand at it. It pops open again. “Yes you are.” 

“No.” I shut it again. “I’m not.” 

“Yes.” She opens it again. “You are.” 

I shut it with force then plop down on top of it and fold my arms defiantly. “No. I’m not,” I say. “You can tell me I am all day if that’s what you want to do. You’re not wasting anyone’s time but your own.” 

She laughs humorlessly. “You’re not quitting school, Roxanne. Get your arse up and stop acting like a child.” 

“Actually, I am,” I say. “You can’t stop me.” 

“Actually I can and I am. You’re going back to school!” she shouts. 

“What’s the point?!” I shout back at her. “I’m practically a bloody a bloody Squib!” 

“The point is, you’re only sixteen! You need an education!” 

“Why?” I snap. “Why should I go back to a school to learn magic, when I can’t BLOODY DO MAGIC?!” 

My mum sighs loudly and whips her head to the side to look at my dad. He stands silently in my doorway as he has been for the last half an hour. “A little help would be nice.” 

Dad glances from her to me and back again. “She has a point, Ange,” he says evenly. 

“Oh, I should have known you would agree with her,” she says hotly. “Being a dropout yourself and all.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Like you didn’t want to quit, too, when the Toad was running things at Hogwarts.” 

“Of course I did!” she snaps. “But I toughed it out and graduated!” 

“Oh, I didn’t realize my not graduating bothered you so much,” he says irritably. 

They start shouting over each other and I hold my face in my hands, sighing loudly. Ever since I got my results they haven’t been able to be in the same room with each other without fighting. 

“You make the idea of going back to school sound appealing,” I say bitterly. They don’t hear me. I groan. “Shut up. Shut up. Just shut the bloody Hell up!” I shout over both of them, hopping up from my trunk. When my feet hit the floor, the window behind me shatters. 

They look at me. Then at the window. Their eyes are wide. Mine are, too. 

“What did you just do?” my mum asks. I look past her at my door. 

“Erm...Sorry,” says Uncle Harry, who is standing in the hallway outside of my room. I don’t know how long he has been there but I have a feeling he overheard most of what was being said. “We knocked but...” 

My dad turns and I see Aunt Ginny standing beside Uncle Harry. “We didn’t mean to interrupt your domestic,” says Aunt Gin. Uncle Harry stifles a laugh. “We wanted to talk to Roxanne, if that’s all right.” 

Mum nods and brushes by them. “Maybe you can talk some sense into her.” 

Dad sighs. “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal that she doesn’t want to go back to school...But Roxanne, your mum has a point. You’re only sixteen.” 

“I’ll be seventeen a week and a day after school starts,” I say. “What difference does it make?” 

“I reckon it doesn’t make any difference,” he says. “But...What do you think? Gin? Harry?” 

“I think I want to talk to Roxanne,” Aunt Gin says impatiently. “Alone.” 

My dad looks at Uncle Harry as if he’s hoping he’ll be leaving with him. He doesn’t want to be alone with Mum. I don’t blame him. 

Uncle Harry shakes his head. “I’d like to talk to her too, George.” 

Dad leaves and Uncle Harry shuts the door. I stand in the same spot, looking between them. “You won’t be able to change my mind,” I say. 

“We’re not here to do that,” Aunt Gin says. “Sit down.” 

I sit on my bed and Aunt Gin sits beside me. “Do you know what happened to your window?” she asks. 

I look at it and shake my head. Uncle Harry whips his wand around. In seconds its as good as new. 

“Well, I do,” she says. “You got angry and you broke it.” 

I look at her. My eyebrows knit together. “What? I didn’t touch it.” 

“You don’t have to touch it,” she laughs. “Do you know how many windows I’ve broken from getting angry?” 

“More than I can remember fixing,” Uncle Harry says. He sits on top of my trunk, smiling faintly. 

I don’t understand and I’m sure my confusion shows. 

“It happens...with the illness,” Aunt Gin continues. “It’s different for everyone, but you’re a lot like me, yeah? You’ve got my temper. When you get angry...things will happen.” 

I gape at her. I think I know what she’s trying to tell me but I can’t allow myself to process it. “...You..” 

She nods. “I’ve got it, too.” 

My chest tightens. I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. Like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. I want to cry. Then I want to scream because I don’t want to cry. I’m enraged. I clinch my hands into fists. Glass shatters from my window again. 

Uncle Harry is quick on his feet to fix it again. 

Aunt Gin puts her arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to her side. I don’t want to be touched but I don’t want to push her away either. My tense muscles relax in the slightest. I don’t look at her. I can’t look at her. 

“When did you...How long have you had it?” I ask. 

“A while,” she says. “...I know you’re scared. But being scared doesn’t mean you aren’t strong.” 

But I’m not scared. I’m terrified. I pull away from her and look at my hands. “Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t Al tell us?” 

“Albus doesn’t know,” Uncle Harry says. I look up at him. “No one else knows.” 

“Then why did you tell me?” I say roughly. 

“Because,” Aunt Gin says, “I want you to know that you’re going to be okay.” 

I laugh dryly. “You don’t know that. No one has lived long enough to know that.” 

“I have,” she tells me. “When I said a while, I meant it. I found out shortly after the explosion that happened in Azkaban.” 

I look at her in shock. “That was months ago...That was when it first started.” 

“I know. That’s how I know you’re going to be okay.” 

“You just have to do things...differently,” says Uncle Harry. I look at him. “Performing magic is what harms you...Like when you cast your Patronus at your retest. It weakened you. Every spell you do now will damage you to some extent. Especially strong ones. With you going back to school—” 

“I’m not going back to school,” I say. 

“—with you turning seventeen soon, then, you’ll be able to do magic whenever you want. But Roxanne, you can’t. In most cases, casting spells is what causes...” 

“People to die,” I say flatly. “So this...illness. It doesn’t drain people’s magic? It just makes their magic...kill them?” 

He shakes his head. “No, that’s not exactly how it works. At least not from what we’ve pieced together.” 

“I don’t understand,” I say. 

“What happened to me,” Aunt Gin begins, “is that doing magic made me weak, like Harry said. So I stopped doing it unless it was absolutely necessary. But as time went on, doing even the simplest spell became a challenge and doing more complicated spells became dangerous. Until I couldn’t do magic at all.” 

“Your magic is gone?” I say. “Completely?” 

She nods. “Completely. Unless I get mad. Then it comes out in uncontrollable bursts. Like yours did when you broke the window.” 

“That’s what happens,” Uncle Harry says. “It becomes uncontrollable and dangerous.” 

“So not doing magic doesn’t stop it?” I ask. 

He frowns. “No, it doesn’t. It just makes it safer.” 

“I wish you would reconsider going back to school,” says Aunt Gin. “I understand why you wouldn’t want to...but...” 

“But we’re working on something to help the students,” Uncle Harry tells me. “You’re not the only student with this condition, Roxanne. I think you’ll be better off there than here. Especially with what we’ve got planned. The Ministry is finally doing something useful.” 

“Like what?” I ask. 

“I can’t say,” he says. “But you’ll find out if you go back.” 

“Roxanne,” Aunt Gin says. “...I know it’s a lot to ask of you but I’d like it if you kept what we told you to yourself...About me. I’m not ready for anyone else to know.” 

The weight of her secret is already too heavy to bear. 

Ϟ 

My dad and Uncle Harry convince me to return to school. I plan on staying until I turn seventeen and can quit without being chastised by my mum. 

I don’t know what I will do after. I choose not to think of it. I don’t even know if I’ll make it to see seventeen. 

Ϟ 

The Hogwarts Express stops in Hogsmeade station and I quickly pile off of the train ahead Albus, Scorpius, Dominique, Rose, and Alice Longbottom. I’m in a bad mood. Everyone I saw from the moment I stepped inside of it approached me about Fred. 

I stomp across the gravel, glaring straight. People watch me. I can feel their eyes. But they know better than to say a word to me because of the look on my face. 

I come to an abrupt stop at the end of the station. Even though I was warned about Thestrals by Uncle Harry, the sight of them at the carriages startles me. I swallow hard. They remind me of Fred. I can see them because of Fred. 

“Oh get on with it, Roxanne,” hisses Scorpius. He shoves my shoulders before moving around me. “You’re not the only one who can see them.” 

This shakes me from my daze and I go after him. I shove him squarely in the middle of his back. He turns to face me. “Don’t touch me, you greasy git,” I snap. 

“What’s going on?” asks Rose. She, Albus, Dominique, and Alice have just caught up to us. 

“The Thestrals gave your ankle biting cousin a fright,” Scorpius says. 

I shove him again and pull my wand from my pocket out of habit. 

He laughs loudly. I jab it into his chest. “What are you going to do with that? Poke me to death?” 

I grit my teeth. For a moment, I actually forgot that I could no longer do magic. 

“She might not be able to hex your sorry arse, but I can,” says Dominique. She points her wand at his throat. 

“Dom, lay off,” says Albus. He pulls her away from Scorpius, who is smiling smugly. “What’s the problem, mate?” 

“Your family is the problem,” Scorpius says. He looks over all of us except for Rose then turns and walks away. 

“Oh, that little wanker!” Dom seethes. “Why the bloody fuck are you friends with him?” 

I don’t wait around to hear Albus’ answer or to hear Rose defend him again. I stomp away, my fingers curling around my wand so tightly that I think it might snap. 

I climb into a carriage and sit facing away from the beast at the end of it. I don’t know if I’m angry that Dom tried to defend me or if it’s because I can’t defend myself. Both. I’m angry over both. But more so because of the latter. 

Dom, Rose, and Albus climb into the carriage with me. Dom sits beside me while Rose and Albus sit across from us. 

“What about Alice?” says Dom. I look to see her standing at the steps. 

“It’s fine,” she says. “I’ll get on the next one.” 

“Wow, Albus,” Dom says. “You’re just as much of a wanker as Malfoy.” 

“What? What did I do?” 

“You left your girlfriend by herself!” 

I sigh loudly and stare at the ground as the carriage takes off. The noise and jostling distracts me and as we get closer to the castle gates I feel less annoyed. I just want to eat then go to sleep. 

“What the bloody Hell?” Dom says suddenly. 

I look up and over my shoulder as the carriage comes to a halt. Just beyond the gate I see Teddy. There’s a tall girl with long, thick black hair to the left of him and a man I notice to his right. It’s the man from the Ministry. The man who showed up at my flat looking for Uncle Harry. 

“What is Teddy doing here?” asks Rose. 

“I have no idea,” says Dom. “But Victoire is going to implode when she sees him.” 

“Why?” I say. 

“They broke up a few days ago.” 

“What?” says Rose. “Why?” 

“So she could be ‘free’ during her seventh year,” Dom says, rolling her eyes. “Why didn’t your dad tell us Teddy would be here?” 

“I don’t know,” says Albus. “I’m guessing he’s a part of whatever it is that the Ministry put together, though.” 

“Why would the Ministry send Aurors to Hogwarts?” 

“Let’s go find out,” he replies. He climbs out of the carriage. Dom is quick to go after him. Rose and I stand at the same time and she gestures for me to go first then follows suit. 

We form a line and push through the crowd until we’re at the front of it. Teddy acknowledges us with a smile but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he stands with his hands behind his back looking stiff and uncomfortable, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. 

I look at the girl to the left of him. She stands with her hands on her hips, squinting against the sun as she stares at the oncoming carriages. She looks familiar. She also looks young. She can’t be much older than I am. 

Then I look to the right of Teddy. The man stands looking as severe as ever, his bulky arms folded over his wide chest. He stares into the crowd. His cold, dark brown eyes dart from student to student. Is he counting us? 

“Listen up!” he booms suddenly. The chatter around me falls instantly. “All second and third years, form a line in front of McLaggen.” He unfolds his arms to point towards the girl by Teddy’s side. No one moves. “Now!” 

Rocks crunch as second and third years quickly move to the far left. 

“Fourth and fifth years, in front of Lupin!” he shouts over the noise. More students scuttle and this time they do not hesitate. “Sixth and seventh years, stand in front of me!” 

Since I’m directly in front of him, I don’t move. 

He looks at me and takes a single step forward. “Are you hard of hearing?” 

“I might be now, since you keep shouting,” I say loudly. I hear Dom snort from my side but the man’s threatening gaze does not falter. Neither does mine. 

“Get in line with your year. Now!” 

“I am!” I say, my voice the same tone. I still don’t look away. 

“She is,” I hear Teddy say. “Sir.” 

The man looks back at him, then at me. He stares at me. I stare back. I feel victory when he’s the first to look away. I can’t bask in it, though. I’m too annoyed that he didn’t believe I was a sixth year. Especially since, if I had been born a week earlier, I’d be a seventh year. I suddenly feel uncomfortable in my green and silver robes that hide any hint of a mature figure. 

“We’re doing things a little differently this year,” he says. His voice is so loud. It projects easily. “Follow me.” 

He turns on his heel and quickly starts up the narrow path to the school. Dom, Albus, Rose and I are right behind him. The rest of the sixth and seventh years follow in our wake. 

“Why is he walking so bloody fast?” Dom pants. 

“Maybe he’s really hungry,” I say breathlessly. “I know I am.” 

“I thought he was going to strangle you,” she says. “I feel like I know him from somewhere.” 

I glance at her. “You do. He was the bloke who showed up at my flat after—” I stop myself. 

Her blue eyes widen. She knows what I’m talking about so I don’t have to say it. “He is!” 

“Stop yapping and move!” he shouts from over his shoulder. 

By the time we reach the entrance to the castle I feel like I’m going to collapse—but he doesn’t slow his pace at all. Wordlessly he points his wand at the giant double oak doors and they fly open. He rushes inside. 

We move by the Great Hall without an explanation and run up three flights of stairs. Now I don’t feel like I’m going to collapse. I feel like I’m going to faint. I can hardly feel my legs and my lungs feel like they’re on fire. 

We enter the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and that is when he finally slows and turns to face us as he walks backwards. He isn’t breathing heavily and despite the fact that we just ran only Merlin knows how far and he’s dressed in a thick black coat, he’s hardly broken a sweat. 

He moves to the middle of the room, flicking his wand at the desks. They slide out of the way with ease and line up against the walls. 

“Form a circle,” he says, gesturing with his free hand. “Quickly!” 

I stand between Dom and Albus, then slump over, my hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath. It seems impossible. Every gasp seems to sear my chest. 

“You have one minute,” he roars, “to get inside of this room or you will be locked out!” 

“I doubt that would bother anyone,” I breathe. 

“Roxy,” Albus whispers fiercely. I look up to see him shaking his head at me. I know he would probably tell me to be quiet if he were actually capable of speaking properly. He’s breathing just as hard as the rest of us. 

A minute goes by with him looking at his watch the entire time. I know when it elapses. He raises his wand and the classroom door slams shut and locks. I look around. I know that there are people missing. Before he shut the door, I could hear their footsteps echoing through the corridor. 

I don’t see Victoire. Or Alice. I don’t see a lot of people, actually. 

The man stands silently, looking over the circle of students. I see his mouth move. He’s doing a head count. 

“Pathetic,” he says. “Absolutely pathetic. Out of two hundred and eighty eight, only seventy two of you were able to get from the gate to here in the allotted time.” He moves in a slow circle, his eyes roaming over us. “By a show of hands only, how many of you can still do magic?” 

Hands dart into the air. I try to count them but I’m not quick enough. 

“Under half of you then,” he says. Their hands fall. I’m shocked. “And by a show of hands, how many of you know how to defend yourselves against magic or otherwise, without magic?” 

A single hand raises on the opposite side of the circle. It belongs to Charles Nott. I’m not surprised. Charles Nott is huge. 

Dom makes a not-so-subtle gagging noise. She and Charles have a history. Last year they hooked up. He told everyone. Dom denied it to everyone. 

He laughs. Like he is genuinely amused. Even though his expression says otherwise “One.” He shakes his head then looks us over. 

“My name is Vaughn and I’ve been rightly sent by the Ministry of magic to teach you defense. Physical defense, just so we’re clear. Since the lot of you can’t do magic and it’s likely even more of you will be in the same predicament soon enough, it’s my responsibility to teach you how to defend yourselves wandlessly. You’ll learn hand to hand combat skills—” 

“What?!” I say suddenly. Vaughn turns to look at me with a scowl. “You’re what the Ministry made such a big deal over? Physical defense lessons? Shouldn’t they be focusing on, oh I dunno, important things? Like figuring out what the bloody Hell is going on so they can stop it? Instead of sending you to see that the rest of us off each other before they get the chance?” 

He takes a step toward me, head tilted, a smile on his full lips. He glances at the ground as he closes the space between us. When he looks up at me again, only inches away, his smile is gone. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Roxanne Weasley.” 

He steps closer. His eyes go cold. Threatening. As if I’m supposed to fear him, but I don’t. He doesn’t scare me. 

“Well, Roxanne Weasley. Allow me to teach you your first lesson. Do not speak to me unless I give you permission to speak to me.” 

His tone is as severe as he looks—still yet, I feel nothing other than anger. 

It’s silent for several seconds. I think he’s about to lean away when I say, “Or what?” 

My heart hammers. He clenches his jaw but says nothing as he glares at me. Slowly he stands at full height. 

“Let me show you,” he says. He roughly grabs my upper arm, pulling me away from where I stand as he starts across the room. With a single flick of his wand a blue mat appears, covering most of the floor. 

We stand in the middle of it. Another flick. Blue mist curls from his wand and forms a lion that takes charge through the class to the doors and disappears. 

He lets go of me with a shove and turns his wand on me. I don’t have time to wonder what he’s about to do. A wordless flick follows and my school uniform begins to shrivel and contort. My skirt rises and clings to my legs, forming black shorts. My shirtsleeves disappear and the hem rises to the middle of my ribs. I look down at my exposed body in shock. 

Someone whistles. I look up. It’s Charles Nott. He makes hands at his chest. “Wow, Weasley. You wouldn’t think all of that was hiding under your robes.” 

“You,” says Vaughn. He gestures for Charles to step forward. “Come here.” 

Charles doesn’t hesitate. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Charles Nott,” he says proudly. 

“Well, Nott. If you find humor in behaving like a heathen you can be punished like one.” 

He points his wand at him and I watch as Charles’ school uniform shrivels into tight black shorts and a matching sleeveless shirt that looks a little too small for him. He folds his muscled arms over his chest. 

“Oh yeah? What kind of punishment might that be?” 

“The same Weasley’s getting for her mouth,” he says coolly. He tucks his wand away and begins to shrug out of his thick coat. “Only you’re getting it from me.” 

I watch him, confused. He catches me as he tosses his jacket. “Stand on the side and wait your turn, Weasley,” he says. 

I don’t want to show that I’m uncomfortable in my skimpy clothing but it’s impossible for me not to cross my arms over my bare midriff as I turn to walk away. 

I stand on the edge of the mat. I’m close to Dominique, Albus, and Rose but they don’t say anything to me. Everyone is focused on Charles and Vaughn. 

“You say you can protect yourself without a wand. Let’s see what you’ve got,” Vaughn says as he takes a step toward Charles. His muscled arms are raised. His hands balled into fists. 

My eyes widen at the realization of what’s about to happen. 

Charles mirrors him. Or tries to. He looks unsure of himself, but swings an arm out regardless. Vaughn dodges the throw with little effort and returns the gesture. Charles isn’t quick enough. Vaughn’s fist hits his jaw, and before he has a chance to collect himself, Vaughn strikes at his face again. I see blood gushing from Nott’s nose when he pulls his hands away and he lunges at Vaughn, who simply steps to the side and lets him fall to the floor. 

Vaughn laughs. “That was as anticlimactic as I expected it to be. On your feet, now, Nott. Or do you need me to put you on them as easily as I took you off of them?” 

A sudden creak pulls everyone’s attention away from Charles. I look toward the source to see the girl, McLaggen, entering the classroom. She walks tall. With confidence. 

“You needed me?” she says, using her wand to shut the door behind her. 

He nods, motioning her onto the mat. “A student thought it would be a good idea to step out of line. I need you to put her back in it.” 

I gape at them then quickly close my mouth and set my jew. He’s going to make me fight her. 

“Looks like you already got one,” she says, eyeing Nott, who stands almost directly across from me, holding his nose. It’s still bleeding. “Where is she?” 

“Weasley!” Vaughn shouts. He cranes his neck to look at me. “On the mat. Now!” 

McLaggen watches as I step forward and snorts loudly. “You cannot be serious. Is she even in the right group?” 

“Lupin said she was,” Vaughn says. “If only she was as big as her mouth.” 

I squeeze my hands into fists. I don’t want to fight McLaggen. I want to fight him. 

“First to hit the floor?” she asks. 

He nods. She unzips her black sweater and throws it to the side. She wears a top like mine, only longer and instead of a thick green swoop across the front, it’s solid black. 

We stand in front of each other. She towers over me. But not only is she taller. She’s wider. Heavier. Stronger. Her arms are thin...but as she raises them I notice that they are muscled. 

I copy her the best I can. Raising my scrawny arms. She swings first. She misses, but only by an inch, if even. I hop to the left and take a swing at her face. My knuckles graze her chin and I feel them pop. I think I hurt myself more than her. I immediately want to hold my hand protectively but I know that I can’t. Her fist flies at me again. I don’t know how, but I manage to avoid it. 

“You’re quick,” she says pleasantly. I don’t know if it is her words distracting me or if my movement is too sluggish, but her knuckles thump against my cheek suddenly. I groan loudly. “But not quite quick enough.” 

I bring my hand up and press my palm against my cheek as I take quick, backwards steps away from her. I had never been punched in the face before. It aches so much that it brings tears to my eyes. But I don’t get to dwell on the pain. More is inflicted as her fist connections with my mouth. Then my nose. I drop my hand. I have to fight back. I try to fight back. I grab her shoulders and she grabs mine. In seconds, her knee jabs into my ribs and I’m thrown roughly onto the mat. The fight is over. 

I taste iron in my mouth and I can feel blood pouring from my nose. I gasp for air. The blow to my side knocked all of it out of me. Every attempt causes my chest to throb. I’m certain I have a broken rib. Maybe two 

McLaggen stands in front of me, her arm outstretched. 

“Leave her,” says Vaughn. “She can get up on her own.” 

I try to push up from the mat, but I collapse against it. I can’t get up. Not right now. 

“You’re excused to go back to your group,” he says to McLaggen. He turns away from her to eye the circle of students. “That was your introduction to your Defense lessons. You’re dismissed.” 

There isn’t any hesitation on their part to leave. However Rose, Dominique, and Albus linger on the edge of the mat until finally Al takes a step forward, extending his arm. He’s going to help me. I don’t want his help but I know that I need it. 

“Go!” he shouts at them. 

Rose flinches. Dominique casts him an ugly look. And Albus glances from him to me. 

“Now!” he adds through clenched teeth. “I said she can get up on her own.” 

They hesitate before walking away, all three of them looking over their shoulders at me as they leave. 

I finally catch my breath but I don’t move. I watch Vaughn grab his coat from where he placed it. He puts it on without looking at me and moves from where he stands. He’s leaving, too. 

However he looks back at me with a pause in his step. “Did you learn your lesson, Weasley?” 

I glare at him. The anger I feel overpowers the pain I’m in. I don’t care about the consequences of my actions. I don’t care about anything. 

“If my lesson was to learn that you’re an asshole, yeah I did, Vaughn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thanks if you're actually reading this! Please review. You /can/ review on this site, right? I'm still new to how things work...surely you can. Anyway, thanks again!


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